The Holy Ghost Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Weather of green stars
And Christmas suicide:
The traffic goes by so balmy,
We work hard and
Then drink Gatorade:
And I want some friends, and some monuments
Configured sparsely over the immaculately
Mowed esplanade:
And I want a true love to sit with me on twin
Thrones,
And I don’t want to have to be a jealous god:
I don’t want to have to kill too many red shirts
Beaming down from rotating spaceships:
I want to get lazy and melt like
Clocks from these trees:
I want to be allowed to cry over your beauty,
And not be obligated to watch football,
Because you are my favorite team:
See me rippling in the porcelain underneath your
Sweet ass, like a dimpled orchard
I want to smack both of your hemispheres and see
If you wont dropp fruit:
I just want to lay your limbed orchard across
The bed springs and bras knobs
In some high basin too expensive for my
Father to buy
And F- the holy ghost out of you….